


la visita

by NotPersephone



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bedannibal in Florence, F/M, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, bedannibalprompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 16:28:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12236520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotPersephone/pseuds/NotPersephone
Summary: Bedelia pays Hannibal an unexpected visit at work.





	la visita

The clack of heels pierced through his concentration, a well-known sound echoing clearer against the marble floors of the Palazzo, like a vision from the depth of his memory palace coming to life.

Hannibal took residence in one of the most spacious rooms in the Palazzo, tall windows overlooking the gardens, rows of books filling the walls and various artefacts displayed in numerous cabinets. If he was to curate a museum, he needed to surround himself with the finest examples of these objects. The box currently placed on top of the large table by the window was a sad exception. The newest arrivals from Rome proved of little value, a selection of tiny sculptures from 3rd century was of harsh style with hardly any grace. The museum might be small, but it does not mean it would settle for scraps sent from the capital.

Hannibal was checking the shipping document once more, while composing an angry letter in the back of his mind, when the sound made him pause at once. It drew closer until the silhouette appeared in his doorway.

Bedelia stopped and looked around, taking in all the surroundings, an indigo dress with fine straps draped around her figure, meticulous locks falling softly on her shoulders. She looked ethereal.

Hannibal marvelled at her choice of dress, it was light and delicate; he loved to see her this way, even more than he adored her in her finest evening couture. Another reason to praise the Italian summertime.

And he had not been expecting her, but it was almost as if he had summoned her here; she had been on his mind all morning. Hannibal did not want to leave their bed today; he woke up to find her spread across his chest, like a cat claiming its territory, serene and content. The air was still heavy and the room, quiet. It was in moments like these that the notion of peace was finally transparent to him. He smiled, his fingers rubbing the nap of her neck, the new-found sensitive spot, and she sighed in her sleep; a picture of perfection. It caused him an almost physical pain to let her go as he left for work.

While he was unpacking the unfortunate delivery, his mind was distracted, contemplating all the ways he could compensate for the early departure.

Now Bedelia met his gaze and abandoned her spot at the door, finally entering the room. The delicate scent of her begun to permeate the space. She did not wear much perfume today, it was too hot for that, which was all the better. He was mastering the notes of her skin, from the barest ones to the most intimate ones; he catalogued them all with utmost care, wanting to be surrounded by no other aroma.

“What an unexpected pleasure,” he welcomed her with a joyful smile.

“Can a wife not visit her husband?” her words a subtle tease, but his heart fluttered against his rib cage when she referred to their marital titles.

“Any time she wishes,” his smile even brighter now.

He still remembered her first visit here; she walked down the corridor like a muse called in from the Olympus for much needed inspiration. She made all heads turn and Hannibal’s heart swelled with joy that she was his. Until the moment was shattered by a bold remark made by his assistant. He is now confined to the archives, sorting through old card catalogues; he should be happy that he is still alive.

Bedelia wandered around the room, stopping occasionally to admire a piece or book that had caught her attention. He adored the way she walked, an effortless grace in her every move.

She turned, her back to him and Hannibal’s gaze fell on her delectable behind. He knew the delicate fabric covered a bite mark he left on her right buttock two nights ago. A smug smile pulled at his lips; he should focus on the left one today.

Her eyes focused on the box and she proceeded to examine its contents. The elegant fingers skimmed through the protective packaging and she took out a stumpy figurine. It was meant to be Venus, Hannibal noted, but the sculpture was not an image of beauty. He could tell from her eyes that she shared the same sentiment.

“You left very early,” her tone remained neutral, her eyes still focused on the statuette she held in her hands, but he knew she was dissatisfied.

He was learning to read the nuances in her words and the emotions in her eyes. It was more entrancing than translating any medieval literature. She was poetry in motion.

“I know. I am sorry,” he admitted truthfully, although the word could not convey the regret he had been feeling since he closed the door behind him this morning.

Bedelia set the figurine down and walked towards him, her hips swaying with allure, a certain purpose in her gaze. She stopped by his chair and leaned against his desk. Her hand reached to rest on his arm, just below his rolled sleeve, her fingertips trailing his skin, eliciting instant goose bumps.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked nonchalantly as her fingers continued to wander up and down his arm.

He considered saying nothing, but it would be for naught, she could always see through his shroud.

“I had imagined this,” he confessed openly,” You, visiting my office. Back in Baltimore.”

“I am sure you had,” she commented with a smirk, her fingers moving up to stroke his jaw, “And what were we doing in your office?”

Hannibal’s only reply was to smirk and lean into the touch of her hand.

“Did you imagine having me bent over that mahogany desk?” the almost clinical calmness of her tone coming as a stark contrast to the words she uttered made him undone. He had always loved her boldness, one that made her so _her._

“I believe it would have rather been the other way around,” he said with a chuckle; another true reply which earned him a wider smile and her hand moving further to caress his hair; fingers combing through the strands, gentle and pleasant scratch of nails against his scalp. He shifted in his chair, her ministration made sitting suddenly _uncomfortable_.

Hannibal watched with wonder as she slightly lifted the hem of her dress and moved closer to sit astride his thighs. When she settled herself on his lap, she kissed him, hands pressing against the nap of his neck, holding him firmly. When she paused for breath, he could see dark specks of lust colouring her eyes. The scent of her became sharper, musky notes overpowering the previous ones. She might have not said the words, but her body always gave her away. His own body responded to her desire in an instance, his arousal reaching its peak.

He could see her nipples straining through the fabric of the dress. Only now Hannibal noticed she was not wearing any brassiere; he licked his lips at the thought. Without a word, Bedelia took the straps of her dress and pulled them down, revealing the much-desired sight. Her poppy nipples turned a shade darker when she was aroused, a hue he did not have a name for yet.

They appeared even darker now, with her skin beautifully sun kissed after their weekends at the coast, particularly the last one. She tended to spend their time on the beach sitting under a big umbrella, claiming that she did not want tan lines. Hannibal undertook an extensive search for a perfect spot and had finally found it; a secluded beach for them alone. And this time she did hid away, instead she sunbathed in nude. Hannibal’s plans to enjoy the sea were scraped the second she removed her bathing suit. He stared at her with awe, watching the sun dance on her skin, but was sadly restricted to his corner of the blanket. Bedelia did not wish to be disturbed, making sure she tanned evenly. It wasn’t until the sun hid behind the clouds that he got a chance to finally taste her warm skin.

They were in the open there, but somehow, he felt more self-cautious here, in the semi-private confines of his office. His fingers reached to trace the gentle swell of her breasts and his lips wrapped around her nipple. Bedelia uttered a single, _loud_ moan. Hannibal did not know whether it was the acoustic of the space or whether she did that on purpose and he did not care. A brief thought of being heard through the fully open door slipped through his mind, but was immediately replaced by a need to elicit further moans from her.

His hands splayed across her rib cage, his mouth lavished her breasts with continuous caresses. No spot remained untouched, as he kissed and nibbled, earning him the vocal approval he craved. He finally pulled away, pleased with his work; her breasts now red and tender, shallow breaths making them rise and fall. But Hannibal was even more breathless then her.

Bedelia took his hand and placed it on her thigh, inviting him to explore further. His hand travelled up obediently, a slow caress, enjoying the feeling of her soft skin, until he reached the coveted centre. An audible gasp escaped his parted lips; she seemed to have foregone more than just her bustier today. He looked at her with delight and she held his gaze, her hips shifting forwards, urging him to move his hand, now resting idle against her sex. His fingers began to trace, to circle, to press and to enter, as she desired.

Her head falling back, he could feel her beginning to tremble, but, suddenly, her hand halted his, while the other moved to his belt. This was not enough for her and she needed more. Hannibal was enamoured by her ravenous appetite and wondered if anyone before got to witness it in full. No, he decided, a thought that filled him with exhilaration and pride. Pleasing her was the most gratifying challenge, one that elevated his own pleasure to never before reached heights.

She undid his slacks, fingers grazing the length of him. Hannibal barely uttered a sigh before she gripped him and took him inside her, finding the stimulation she was seeking.

At first, Bedelia always moved slowly, deep and languid motions, taking her time and her pleasure, enjoying the sensation. Only when she was satisfied with the angle, she took Hannibal’s hands and placed them on her sides, pressing forward more urgently. He gripped her firmly, his fingers tangling in the dress bundled around her waist, the chair creaking beneath them.

Bedelia leaned forward, her nose brushing his face, cheek against cheek, her breath hot on his skin, her moans loud in his ears. His senses overflowing, Hannibal closed his eyes, aware of nothing else but the rapture of the moment.

His groans joined hers as they drew near to their mutual completion, their voices echoing loudly against the high, frescoed ceiling of the room.

They held each other in the afterglow, attempting to regain their composure. Hannibal’s lips were on her neck, tasting the salt on her skin, sensing the rapid pulse of her blood flowing beneath. She was feeling as alive as him; there was nothing more he could have wanted.

“I hope you will visit me more often,” he murmured against her warm skin.

“I am not sure if there are enough things of interest to hold my attention,” she whispered into his ear.

It was a challenge and a promise and Hannibal looked forward to both.

**Author's Note:**

> This started with a headcanon and I figured I would turn it into a drabble but somehow it ended as a full fic. This is obviously canon. I was never sure which museum Hannibal was supposed to be working in, but in my mind it's the archaeological one; it is literally five doors down from the Palazzo Capponi. It is small and easy to miss if it weren't for a giant banner over it's entrance.


End file.
